


The Necropolis

by gatesmasher



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Gen, Humor, exaggerated depictions of real place, um...mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatesmasher/pseuds/gatesmasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A trip to the City of the Dead shouldn't be dangerous, should it?  I mean, they're all dead, right?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Necropolis

**Author's Note:**

> Except for Emperor Norton’s ‘mausoleum’ (he only has a headstone, although it’s a very nice one), everything else referenced in this story is factual (if a trifle selective).

\---SGC Briefing Room---

It was an informal briefing, so Jack breezed in late, unsurprised to find Daniel already in full lecture, General Hammond and the rest of SG-1 looking predictably glazed in the face of the archeologist’s verbal onslaught.　

"—and those are just a few of the reasons a necropolis like this is incredibly rare.　 In fact I would go so far as to say it’s unique, and definitely warrants closer inspection—"

"Of course it does, Daniel. Just like everything else."　

"Well, Jack, if you’d been here on time, you’d have heard my explanation—"

"Well, Daniel, I just happen to already know what a necropolis is.　 It’s a city of the dead. … What? I listen to you sometimes.　 When it’s interesting."

"Oh. Well, good. I guess."

"So what planet are these fascinating ruins on."  
  
"No ruins, Jack.　 It’s a live site.　 Uh, ‘live’ being relative that is."

"Leave the puns to the experts, Daniel."

"Actually, though, there *are* living residents, about 1,500 of them, and over 1.5 million dead. It’s truly amazing, the site’s only two square miles but it holds seventeen interment grounds."

"Whoa. So the dead outnumber the living by, uh…"

"A thousand to one."

"Cozy. Okay, so there’re colorful and exotic natives tending the tombs.　 So what planet?"　

"This one."　

"It’s on Earth?　 What does it have to do with the SGC?"

"Ever since Hathor and Seth, I’ve been looking for more, uh, lingering Goa’uld, and I’m thinking this might be the perfect place to hide a sarcophagus."

"Ah. Good call. So it’s gotta be in, what, Egypt?"

"A little closer, Jack."

"That same Central American site they found Hathor?"

"Closer."

"Daniel…"

"California."

"…California? There’s a necropolis in California?"

"Yes."

"Hollywood?"

"Not quite. A little town called Colma. Just south of San Francisco. Sixteen cemeteries. For human remains, that is. There’s also a pet cemetery."

"Of course there is."

"Quite fascinating really. In 1900 the San Francisco City Fathers outlawed cemeteries within the City limits to capitalize on real estate for housing. Um, housing of the living, that is. So all extant remains were disinterred and moved to what became Colma. The town was founded specifically as a necropolis."

"And that’s all that’s there? Graveyards?"

"Well, there’re a few car dealerships, a couple shopping centers, an Irish pub—"

"Now you’re talking."

"Jack, it’s the cemeteries that are the interesting thing. You see, anyone who was anyone over the last couple centuries in San Francisco is buried in Colma. Joe DiMaggio’s buried in Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery."

"Joltin’ Joe, eh? What about his ex, Marilyn Monroe?"

"Um, no. But Wyatt Earp and his wife are buried in Hills of Eternity Jewish Cemetery."

"Wyatt Earp was Jewish?"

"He wasn’t; his wife was."

"So you think ol’ Joe and Wyatt were Goa’uld?"

"…No, Jack. But I think it might be a possibility for some of the older graves. In particular, I’d like to take a look at Emperor Norton the First’s mausoleum."

"There’s an emperor buried in an American cemetery?"

"Joshua Abraham Norton. Born in London in 1819, grew up in South Africa. He was living in San Francisco when he lost his fortune over a bad investment in Peruvian rice. He apparently lost his mind as well, because seven years later he proclaimed himself Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico."

"Ah. I must’ve missed school that day."

"He was considered insane, or at least highly eccentric, but the people of San Francisco embraced him."

"Only in Frisco."

"Watch it, Jack. Norton proclaimed a moratorium on the word ‘Frisco.’ By royal decree, if you uttered the abominable word, you could be fined twenty-five dollars."

"Let him try. He’s dead. …Right?"

"That’s what I’m hoping to confirm. He collapsed of an apparent heart attack in 1880. Thirty thousand people lined the streets to witness his funeral cortege. However, for a Nineteenth Century lunatic, he was quite prescient. He decreed the formation of a League of Nations decades before anyone else saw the need. He ordered a suspension bridge built exactly where the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge stands today; and a tunnel, exactly where the underground railway system now runs."

"Lucky guesses."

"He also ordered the dissolution of the U.S. Congress for fraud, corruption, and failure to properly represent the public."

"The man was a visionary!"

"The thing is, Norton had an unusual amount of influence for a supposed kook. The City police were under strict orders not to interfere with him and in fact saluted him as he passed. The 1870 U.S. Census took note of him, listing his occupation as ‘Emperor.’ And he issued his own money, which San Francisco merchants honored as local currency."

"You’re kidding. That’s ridiculous."

"Exactly. E Clampus Vitus’s motto is, Credo Quia Absurdum Est: ‘I believe it because it is absurd’.

"Uh…you lost me."

"E Clampus Vitus is a major branch of Discordianism. They’re dedicated to the achievement of non-rational levels of perception. There’s a bunch of contemporary chapters in California’s gold country, and they honor Norton as a legacy member."

"And Dis-accordion is…?"

"Discordianism is a modern religion centered on the idea that chaos is all there is. Their bible, the ‘Principia Discordia’ explains that Eris, the Greek Goddess of Chaos, is the creator of the universe, the Ultimate Divinity, and Norton is the Erisian Messiah: the word of Discordia made flesh. He’s considered a kind of patron saint."

"Well, that’s starting to sound kinda Goa’uldish."

"His body was disinterred in the early 1900’s along with the rest and placed in a large mausoleum in Woodlawn Cemetery."

"Large enough to house a sarcophagus?"

"I’m not ready to make a judgment yet, I simply think it bears a closer look. SG-1 has downtime this weekend and it’s a short flight… General?"

"I believe you’ve raised some valid concerns, doctor. Major Carter?"

"I could bring some sensors to check for energy readings, sir."

"Teal’c?"

"A trip to an Earth necropolis could be most informative, General Hammond."

"Very well. I have no objection if you don’t, colonel."

"Nah. Sounds fun. A weekend in Frisco? How much trouble could we get into?"

　

\----SGC Infirmary, Three Days Later----

"Hey, Jack, you’re awake! How’re you feeling?"

"Finally! Where the hell have you been, Daniel?"

"Well, you have been unconscious for two days…"

"Teal’c was here when I woke up last night but he wouldn’t tell me anything. What the hell happened?"

"You don’t remember anything?"

"Well, I remember getting to Colma, but it’s all jumbled after that."

"Janet says you’re going to be okay, but apparently there’s something about the combination of a concussion and a zat strike that the human brain doesn’t take kindly to."

"A zat…? Crap, I can’t remember a thing. How did I get a concussion?"

"Funereal urns are pretty heavy. Especially bronze ones."

"An urn fell on my head? Was it filled with…anybody?"

"As in ashes? No, plastic flowers."

"Oh thank god… Ugh."

"Jack, does your head still hurt? Maybe you should just rest—"

"No, wait, I remember the graveyards, rows of headstones… Crap, I must’ve really been knocked around, I could swear I saw some creepy clown tombstone."

"Um, no, that was real. It was the Circus Showfolks of America Memorial. It *was* kind of creepy."

"And some really overblown architecture."

"Colma mortuaries don’t tend toward subtlety."

"Duck ponds and castles… You sure they weren’t Goa’uld pleasure palaces?"

"Positive."

"I remember a temple with marble columns…"

"The mausoleum."

"Looking around with flashlights…"

"It was nighttime, yes."

"Then getting into some kind of firefight, people shouting…"

"Yes, you put up quite a fight."

"Did we at least get the bad guy?"

"Oh, yes, we caught them."

"Them? As in more then one?"

"Two of them."

"Sweet. Two of them, right on our doorstep. So, who are they? What’re their names?"

"Jose Luis Hernandez and Oscar Nguyen."

"…Jose…?"

"Luis Hernandez."

"And Oscar…?"

"Nguyen."

"And what gods did they claim to be?"

"Well, they didn’t claim to be gods so much as pipefitters."

"Pipefitters."

"Yes."

"From outer space?"

"No, from South San Francisco."

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"Before my head explodes, could you please explain to me why we traveled one thousand miles to capture two pipefitters from South San Francisco?"

"Actually we didn’t capture them so much as we were arrested along with them."

"Arrested."

"By the Colma police, yes."

"Daniel, would you step a bit closer?"

"Um, no, I think I’m okay over here."

"Ugh..."

"Jack? You want me to get Janet?"

"No, I want you to tell me why we were arrested."

"The police thought we were working with Jose Luis and Oscar. They were grave robbers! Can you believe it? Despoiling the houses of the dead for personal profit!"

"Professional jealousy, Daniel?"

"No! Apples and oranges, Jack. What I do is totally different."

"Sure it is."

"Apparently there’s been a rash of metal thefts recently. Bronze is over two dollars a pound, copper’s pretty high too. So thieves steal urns and pipes and whatnot and sell them for scrap. When we went into Emperor Norton’s mausoleum we stumbled on a—a stakeout, I guess."

"Your research didn’t cover current news, I take it."

"That would be a no. I don’t usually get to reference police reports when I do a site evaluation."

"You might consider it from now on. So when’s the arraignment?"

"Don’t worry. The charges were dropped. Sam and I managed to work things out after you’d been taken away."

"Away?"

"By ambulance, to the hospital. Sam and I were taken by squad car to the police station. Which was very nice by the way. I’m starting to think the San Francisco City Fathers had it wrong: dead people may be a more reliable tax base than live ones."

"Stay on target, Daniel. How did you explain Teal’c?"

"Oh, he didn’t get caught."

"Lucky. For the police."

"Yes. Although I’m not quite sure how he ended up at the Italian Cemetery."

"The Italian…? So that’s why he was spouting those names at me last night: Alioto, Joseph L., mayor of San Francisco, 1968; Alioto, Angelo P.—"

"He seems to have developed an interest in the genealogy of some prominent Italian-American families. Anyway, I talked to the police, Sam talked to the general. We worked it out. Though Hammond’s still trying to recover Sam’s equipment from the police evidence room."

"What a mess. Did you at least discover anything in the tomb?"

"Well, Sam didn’t get any readings before we went in. I eventually got a pretty good look at the crypt, once the police brought the flood lights in, but I didn’t see any Goa’uld influence. I wish I could’ve poked around a little, but, well, the handcuffs and all."

"They do slow a person down, don’t they?"

"You know, in retrospect I’m thinking that trip to Molloy’s was a mistake."

"A trip to an Irish pub is never a mistake, Daniel. Besides, they knew about the Jed Clampett Accordion stuff."

"They told us nothing I didn’t already know and drank you under the table in the process."

"Nonsense. I was sharp as a tack."

"Then why did you insist on looking at the Virgin Mary Image in a Tree?"

"Oh yeah! Now *that* I remember. You’re such a snob, Daniel. The Virgin Mary rendered in tree sap? That was the high point of the whole trip."

"If you say so."

"Well, I never got to Frisco, now, did I?"

"Fris—I mean, San Francisco was never on the itinerary, Jack!"

"I don’t know what you’re so pissy about, I’m the one with the concussion here. And this was all *your* idea, Daniel."

"*My* idea was to ask a few questions and look around, *in the broad daylight.* You were the one who wanted to prowl around at night, because, and I quote, ‘It’ll be more spooky.’"

"‘Spookier,’ Daniel. I would never say, ‘more spooky.’"

"I told the general I really needed another look to be totally sure, but he seemed reluctant to authorize it."

"Imagine that. … Hey, wait. If those two guys weren’t Goa’uld, how the hell did I get hit by a zat?"

"Um…"

"Daniel?"

"Well, it was pretty dark…and confused…and I think Jose Luis and Oscar were even more surprised than we were…and…um, did I mention how dark it was?"

"Daniel!"

"Well, don’t look at me, I don’t carry a zat."

"… Where’s Carter?"

"Oh, um, she’s around…somewhere."

"Get her in here."

"Sure thing. If I can’t find her, I’ll send Teal’c back in."

"What? No! Not Teal’c! Daniel!? … Oh god, not more of the Alioto family tree."

-end-


End file.
